Happy New Year
by Babatomyfriends
Summary: This is a little one shot I wrote as a New Year present for the start of 2015, based on the finale of "TOW the Monkey" (which also took place exactly 20 years earlier). What could have happened if Monica had agreed to kiss Chandler at midnight? And because it worked so well I decided to add another chapter on New Year's eve of 2016, and now I guess it has become a tradition ...
1. Happy New Year

"Y'know, I uh.. just thought I'd throw this out here. I'm no math whiz, but I do believe there are three girls and three guys right here. Mmmhwooah, mmmhwooah …?!"

He had a point, Monica thought, but Phoebe was too depressed after David's departure, Rachel's lips hurt too much after her accident at the airport, and she herself really, really didn't want to kiss everybody in their place. Especially since Joey had – needlessly – pointed out that she couldn't kiss Ross. And she definitely didn't want to kiss Joey and risk having him open her bra at the same time – or worse.

And yet Chandler – it seemed to mean so much to him to get kissed at the start of the New Year that she started to take pity on him. Especially when he got really desperate and almost screamed at them to kiss him.

"Alright, somebody kiss me. Somebody kiss me, it's midnight! Somebody kiss me!"

„Alright, I'll kiss you" she said and stepped up to him. And almost laughed out loud when his jaw dropped in surprise and he stared at her dumbfounded. She smiled and put her hands on the lapels of his dark green coat, pushing him back a little, away from the others, and he recovered enough to quickly take her hands and retreat a few steps to the landing in front of the bathroom with her. There they stopped and she took his head in her hands, drew him down a little and firmly planted her lips on his before she could change her mind again.

And it was … so nice.

She had expected somebody – Ross mostly – to intervene, to stop her, or at least to laugh at them and ridicule them. Or someone from the party to crash into them, push them aside on their way to the bathroom or distract them. But none of that happened. Actually it seemed to her as if suddenly the world around them had disappeared. The party noises from the living room and from the Times Square festivities on the TV had just faded away. The only sound she still heard was Chandler drawing in his breath sharply as he kissed her back.

He handled it quite well too. Somehow she had expected him to be awkward and clumsy, to be either too shy and keep his lips too stiff, or too bold and press them too hard on hers, mashing them to her teeth. But he did it just right, with a gentle pressure that caressed her lips and teased a little, somehow inviting but never demanding or aggressive, and which turned out to be very – enjoyable. He had closed his eyes and put his hands lightly on her waist, holding her close but maintaining just enough distance between them to keep it from getting too intimate.

She hadn't wanted to draw it out, had actually just wanted to give him a firm smack to make him feel better about the New Year's party that had proved so disastrous for him – and her and the others too – so far, and incidentally make her feel better too. But his lips on hers felt so good, and just as she was about to pull away, he drew her to him by just the tiniest fraction and nudged just a little bit harder, surprising her into responding. She opened her lips almost without realizing it and he gently brushed across them nibbling at them just a little, and all of a sudden a shiver ran through her and she gasped. His eyes opened again and focused on her, with a strange expression in the blue that she couldn't quite read - tender, wistful, loving …? And then he slowly released her lips, moving away just enough so they could face each other, his hands still on her waist. She let her hands slide down to his collar and watched him swallow and lick his lips.

"Happy New Year, Monica" he said and his voice sounded strange all of a sudden, husky and fuzzy.

"Happy New Year, Chandler" she replied, her voice a little shaky too and he smiled.

"Thank you for kissing me" he said softly. "That was very nice."

"You're welcome. I liked it too. I didn't know you were such a good kisser!"

She almost regretted it as soon as she had said that and saw his eyes light up mischievously. Oh God no, now he would gloat and joke about it …

"Well, I have kissed over four women …" But when she glared at him and made a move to disengage, he went serious again. "No, actually you're a great kisser, Mon. I feel so much better now."

She stole a quick glance over her shoulder, suddenly nervous that someone would be watching them, but it really looked like nobody had witnessed their exchange. Ross and Phoebe were trying to comfort each other, both of them lost in their troubles, and Joey was attending Rachel, listening to her complaints and patting her back. In the living room Fun Bobby was still crying into his drink. It was as if the two of them had suddenly turned invisible to everybody else, which seemed really strange, but somehow she couldn't find it in herself to care. She turned back to Chandler and suddenly didn't know what to say.

"Well … thank you … I'm glad …" God, she was stammering. What was the matter with her? This was Chandler, her goofy, sarcastic, quick-witted, awkward, immature, at times pathetic and often annoying friend. Her neighbor. How could she seriously consider kissing him, let alone kissing him – again?

Except she did. Very much.

Their eyes met again and when she saw him work his mouth and swallow once more she realized that he wanted to kiss her again too, and another shiver ran through her, down her chest over her breasts to her stomach. She took a deep breath and started to speak in the same moment he did.

"Would you like –"

"Do you think we could –"

They both broke off and laughed breathlessly, gesturing at each other to go ahead and not wanting to say it first. And he was still holding her by her waist, she could feel the warmth from his hands through her dress. Somehow it heightened her desire and sealed her decision.

"Yes" she said breathlessly, giggling as he stared at her. "Yes – but not here …"

He swallowed again and looked around hectically, searching for a place. "Alright … outside?"

The balcony was out, some other people apparently had had the same idea and beaten them to it.

"Hallway?" he suggested and ushered her through the door before she could even answer. And still nobody seemed to notice them, let alone comment on their going. Chandler gently steered her to the left and they walked up the hallway, passing the doors of no. 22 and 21. She barely had time to wonder what she was doing, or if anybody had seen them leave, or why she even wanted this so much. They came to a stop close to the wall, and looked at each other nervously for a moment. Chandler opened his mouth and shut it again, and Monica, too impatient to wait for him, took the initiative and pulled his head down to hers again, kissing him hard. He caught himself quickly and put his arms around her, pulling her close. She wrapped her arms around his neck and saw that he had closed his eyes again, just before she closed hers too and pressed against him, burying her fingers in his hair. And then time seemed to stand still. Nothing mattered except the amazing way his lips felt on hers, played with hers, teasing them, gently sucking and rubbing. And suddenly she could feel his teeth too, as he gently nibbled at her lips and caught her lower lip for just a moment, letting it go again and repeating the manoeuvre once more. It drove her crazy and she moaned, opening her mouth to invite him in and meeting his tongue as it cautiously advanced into her mouth. It made her shudder and whimper and press even closer to him. His body molded itself against hers, as he held her tighter and tighter, and then, almost as an afterthought, let his hands slide over her back, one straying downwards to the small of her back and one going up to the edge of her dress toying with the thin straps across her shoulder blades. When he touched her skin they both moaned into the kiss, and he started to stroke her shoulders softly with his palm and the tip of his thumb, while his fingertips wandered over the nape of her neck and played with her hair.

Eventually they had to release each other when they both ran out of air, and they kept their heads together while they both panted for breath. Monica only realized she was shivering when Chandler took off his coat and draped it around her shoulders. She stared at him mouthing 'Thank you' but never got a chance to say it out loud before he pulled her close again, pressing her against the wall for good measure. This time she wrapped her arms around his waist, sliding her hands under his waistcoat, feeling the heat from his skin through the thin dress shirt.

Just as their tongues touched again, the door of no. 21 opened and several people came out, chatting and laughing excitedly, heading past them for the stairs to go up to the roof and watch the fireworks from there. Nobody took the slightest notice of them.

"Want to go up?" Chandler asked softly and smiled.

"Won't it be too cold?" But she already had decided that she wanted to go. Chandler just smiled and put his arm around her as he led her to the stairs and up to the door to the roof platform. It was indeed cold, but just bearable if they stood close to the wall around the corner from the door, out of the wind. She looked at the fireworks as they lit up Manhattan all around her in all colors and her breath caught. For a while they stood like this, close together and arms around each other, staring at the lights and going aaahh and ooohh at each particularly amazing explosion of colors. At last she realized that he was only in a shirt and waistcoat and that her feet in the thin pumps were freezing, and silently motioned to him that they should leave. When she stumbled a little on the stairs he held her close again and then kissed her again on the landing and again on the next. She couldn't get enough of his kisses and hurried down each flight as fast as possible to reach for him again on the next landing. Then they arrived at the fifth floor and came to a stop between the two doors of their respective apartments, and she was at a loss what to do. She didn't want to end this, and definitely didn't want to go back to her apartment and face everybody again, especially not in Chandler's coat and with her hair disheveled and lips swollen from their kissing. But she felt very cold and her feet hurt in her tight icy pumps. She looked at Chandler, leaving the decision to him, and he swallowed again and then jerked his head towards no. 19, silently questioning. She hesitated a little and then nodded. He breathed out audibly and hurriedly opened the door to let her in, then kicked it shut as he took her in his arms again. The apartment was dark and deserted, only lit up briefly by some particularly bright firework outside the windows of the living room. She huddled against him, shuddering with her eyes closed again. Somewhere deep in her mind some voice was screaming at her, demanding to know what she was doing, how she could possibly do this, and she desperately tried to shut it out. Chandler put his hands on her waist and gently slid them up her sides to under her arms until he was cupping her breasts with his hands. When he tentatively searched for her nipples with the tips of his thumbs she shivered and then brought up her hands and held them against his chest, pushing him away a little.

"Chandler … what are we doing? What does it mean?"

"Shshshsh … Monica …" He put his hands over hers and pressed them against his chest. "It doesn't mean anything."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"This is New Year's Night. Nothing matters. Whatever happens, it doesn't count. Until the sun comes up, everything goes and nothing matters. It's – it's bonus night. Free rides. No consequences. No meaning. Just – relax. And enjoy."

"I don't underst-"

"I know. Just trust me."

"But –"

"Shsh." He kissed her again, pushing her arms over his shoulders and she simply couldn't resist his lips, latching on hungrily. He put one arm around her shoulders and let one hand slide down over her hip and thigh, then shifted suddenly bending his knees, and picked her up bodily. She gasped and clung to him as he carried her swiftly across the living room to his bedroom, still kissing her. He managed to open the door without too much fumbling and then let her down, kicking it shut behind them and turning the key. His coat fell from her shoulders to the floor, neither of them minding it. He put his arms around her again and fumbled for the zipper of her dress, pulling it down slowly and lovingly. She slid the straps off her shoulders and then the dress came away from her, slowly as in a dream, sliding down her waist and over her hips, leaving her in a thin shoulder-free bra and not much else. His hands went up her sides and over her arms again, and they felt so warm and exciting, as he kissed her again. Then the bra was loosened too and she barely had time to wonder how he had gotten so good with bras all of a sudden, when he squatted and went down on her, kissing her on her neck, breasts, stomach, navel, groin and thighs, gently tugging down her nylon hose and thong. She held on to his shoulders, burying her fingers in his hair, and lifted one foot after the other as he removed the hose and shoe from it and then briefly held it in both hands, warming it. His head came up a little again and she felt his hot breath and then his lips on her labia as he kissed her there, running his hands up her thighs and over her hips and buttocks. It almost made her swoon with desire.

This can't be, she thought. This is Chandler. I'm naked in Chandler Bing's bedroom, and he's making love to me, and all this just because I kissed him at midnight for luck in the New Year … And just like he said, it doesn't mean anything, because it's still night, the lost hours between midnight and the first morning of the New Year, the magical time where nothing matters, nothing counts, nothing means anything, because it's not real, it can't be real.

She pulled him up to her, whimpering with desire now, and tore at his trouser belt and button, tearing down the zipper none too gently, while he squirmed out of his waistcoat and pulled his shirt over his head. There was a slight delay when his shoes inevitably got snagged in his pant legs, but at last he was as naked as she. Entwined they fell on the bed, rolling about and wrapping their arms and legs around each other. She screamed into their kiss as he entered her and clawed at his back and buttocks, and then everything around her became a blur, a dark blind swirl that engulfed them where nothing mattered anymore.

. . .

When the alarm went, she was still panting heavily, clutching the sheets to her and the words 'it doesn't count' it doesn't count it doesn't count' repeating over and over in her brain. Her eyes flew open and she stared at the ceiling of her bedroom uncomprehendingly. The grey light of dawn filtered through her bedroom window. She shut the alarm and lay back again, feeling groggy and confused. It was 8 a.m., she had to get up now to get ready to visit her parents with Ross like they did at every New Year.

'It doesn't count' something whispered in her brain again and she frowned. What didn't? What had happened exactly?

She remembered the party and groaned. Fun Bobby had shown up so sad and depressed he almost brought the whole party down. Ross had brought a monkey, Rachel had come back from the airport battered and beaten up and sans Paolo, Phoebe had had to break up with David, Joey hadn't counted on his date bringing her children and then cheating on him, and Chandler had broken up with Janice. Again. And then wanted so much to be kissed. So desperately. Chandler … there had been something with Chandler.

She frowned and closed her eyes, trying to remember, but her head hurt too much. Funny, she couldn't remember drinking much really. But probably had, given her general frustration.

At last she sighed and got out of bed. Whatever it was, she couldn't remember. Something with Chandler, something to do with kissing him for the New Year. Which couldn't be, because Joey had eventually kissed him, when nobody else wanted to. Which was a good thing too, those two were surely in for a lot of fun this year too. And she could always tease them about it if they ever annoyed her again.

And maybe next New Year's Eve – or the one after – she would kiss Chandler if nobody else did. Just to see what it was like.

After all, it didn't really count then.

.

.

.

A_/N: If this has been done before, then I'm sorry, but I honestly didn't know. It's not improbable, considering how many have gone before me in Fanfiction after all._

_And I'm afraid since I'm an incorrigible Canon stickler that's about as far as I will and can go with a Mondler AU, within the timeframe of the series at least._

_I hope you enjoy it and that all of you out there have a wonderful and happy New Year!_

_PS: And I just realized (only now!) that the episode in fact is set exactly 20 years ago, New Year's Eve 1994. Wow, this is ... surreal indeed. _


	2. The West Coast Delay

Only when he got out of the cab he had shared with Ross to get home Chandler realized that he hadn't gotten kissed at the start of the New Year this time.

It was all Joey's fault. When Monica had asked them if they could host the New Year's party this time, because after the near disaster of her overheated Christmas party she simply couldn't afford another party so soon after, Joey had suddenly – and rather belatedly - remembered that he was already invited to the party the ensemble of the play he had a part in was throwing in the theatre, and that he had promised to bring two male friends with him. Monica of course had been in a huff and all three girls had spontaneously decided to just have a girls' night this time. Rachel mostly because she wanted to escape Ross' constant whining and stalking and Phoebe because this New Year's eve already reminded her of how David had to leave her on this day exactly one year ago and she was still depressed about her failure to confront her father.

So Chandler and Ross had accompanied Joey to his party and it had all gone down pretty much how he thought it would. As soon as he had realized that there was nobody even vaguely familiar there and moreover nobody else seemed even remotely interested to get to know them, he'd been mostly ignored. He had drunk far too much, his ears were hurting from the too loud music, he had to stop himself several times from trying to cadge cigarettes off people, and just generally getting bored stiff. And on top of all that he'd had to endure Ross who kept whining about how he had wanted to kiss Rachel at midnight and try once more to make up with her. When midnight had finally rolled around they had walked out on the street to watch the fireworks and since Joey was nowhere to be found, he and Ross had ended up clapping each other awkwardly on the shoulder and clinking their drinks. And then gone in to drink some more and watch the party from the bar, until Ross tried to stand up, promptly dropped to the floor and fell asleep. That's when he decided he call it quits and go home.

At least he hadn't gotten kissed by Joey again. That had to count for something, even if it meant that he hadn't gotten kissed at all.

Now as he stumbled up the stairs to his apartment and started searching his pockets for his keys, the New Year was already thirteen minutes short of three hours old and he only wished he had drunk even more so he could just let himself fall into his bed and lose consciousness the very moment his head hit the pillow. In most of the other apartments in the building the New Year's festivities seemed still to continue, but no. 20 seemed almost eerily quiet and there was only a faint shimmer of light coming through the spyhole, as if a lamp or nightlight had been left on. For a moment Chandler debated with himself if he really should check to see if everything was alright. What if Monica was still mad at him? What if they had too much to drink and were passed out on the couch or the floor? Still drunk and half-naked too, his treacherous mind supplied before he could stop himself. Of course they would never forgive him if he saw them like that, and of course now that the thought had occurred to him, he was quite unable to stop himself.

After all, he could always say he'd just wanted to wish them a happy New Year.

Still, a part of him almost hoped that Monica had already locked the door. But no, when he tried it, it opened as it always did during daytime, and he hesitated in the doorway when he saw that the apartment was indeed quite dark, except for the light of the table lamp near the window and the faint glimmer from a street light outside. Both bedroom doors were shut. So the girls were probably both asleep by now.

But just as he asked himself if he should turn out the lamp – he was pretty sure Monica wouldn't want to leave it on all night – Monica's door was opened and she came out. Chandler froze and held his breath as she swiftly walked towards the kitchen, barefoot in a short light blue pajama, her head slightly lowered and her dark short hair tousled from sleep.

And looking sexy as hell.

When she arrived at the kitchen counter she finally raised her head and stopped dead when she caught sight of him, her hand going to her mouth with her eyes widening in shock over it. Chandler involuntarily took a step back, bumping against the doorframe, and flailing his arms about in his efforts to reassure her and overdoing it as usual.

"It's only me – ouch - it's alright. Just me." He remembered just in time to keep his voice low. No need to wake up Rachel and endure her wrath. Hell had no fury like Rachel woken prematurely.

"Chandler! What are you doing here?"

"No-nothing, just wanted to – nothing really. Just came back and wanted to see if you – well."

Monica narrowed her eyes at him. "To see if we what?" When he shrugged helplessly she came closer and looked at him searchingly, wrinkling her nose when she caught a whiff of the cigarette smoke and liquor fumes in his clothes. "Ugh, had quite a party, didn't you? Where's Joey?"

"I don't know, I lost sight of him as soon as we got there. I just wanted to see if you're okay before I turned in."

"Oh. That's nice."

"So … you turned in already?"

"Kinda. Rachel's got the early shift tomorrow and Phoebe's grandmother wasn't feeling so great."

"Aw."

"That's okay, Phoebe called to tell me she just was upset because her special 1996 Fortune cookies didn't work, but she had just forgotten to – well, make them special."

"Ah, you mean they weren't … funny cookies. Huh. That's funny."

"If you say so." Monica raised one of her feet to rub it against her shin.

"Oh, um … aren't you cold? You really shouldn't ..."

"I just came out to lock the door. Actually I was watching the fireworks from my window. There's someone on a roof who starts a new firework every hour – you know for the New Year in every time zone after ours. You've got to see this!" And she had already taken his hand and drawn him after her before he could come up with any reason that would convince her not to. And truth to tell, he didn't feel that tired and hungover anymore. Monica in a short pajama was so worth staying up a few minutes more. Any day of the year.

Then they were in her bedroom and Monica shut the door while he took off his coat and put it across a chair. When he followed her to the window he noticed the luminous dial of her clock radio. The time was 3.03 a.m.

"The roof over there, see? Any minute now."

"Um, Monica, it's three minutes past the hour already –"

"What? No, it isn't. That clock is six minutes fast."

"Oh. Really? Then why don't you – oh, right, you keep it that way. I forgot."

"Yeah. Oh, that reminds me, I wanted to check if the fireworks really start on the stroke of the hour …" and she turned the radio on, adjusting the volume until the music was almost too low to be heard, then returned to the window. Chandler glanced briefly at the roof she had pointed out and then looked at her again, suddenly and quite inexplicably fascinated by the way she looked. The way her dark hair framed her face, the way her pajamas almost seemed translucent in the soft faint light, how full and soft her lips appeared …

" - get kissed?"

"Huh?" Chandler started violently.

"I said, did you at least get kissed at midnight?" Monica repeated, frowning at him quizzically. "What's the matter with you?"

"What? Um, nothing. No, Joey had actually promised, but sadly he didn't make it this time …"

"Aw, and there was nobody else to kiss you at midnight?"

"No. No one I wanted to. I mean … I think it really should be someone you know, you know? A friend. At least not a stranger. Or else it doesn't mean anything."

"I see." She smiled a little sadly. "I'm sorry you didn't get kissed. If you'd stayed here -"

"Yes? Would you have - ?"

She wagged her head a little. "Mmmh … maybe."

"Really? But you didn't want to last year."

"I know. But I did feel sorry for you and I remember that I thought that maybe next year I would –"

"… hmmm?"

"Well – at least consider it."

"Ah." Without realizing it he had stepped closer to her and now they were almost touching. When he breathed in he caught a faint whiff of her scent or maybe it was from her hair.

"And …?"

She looked up at him, her expression almost wistful now. "It's no longer midnight."

"Oh." Chandler let his breath out. "Right. Pity."

"Yeah …" The corners of her mouth twitched. "If it was midnight now …"

Something made him look at the radio again, just in time to see the numbers change to 3.06 and suddenly something in his head clicked.

"But it is. It's midnight now."

"What?"

"In L.A. On the West Coast."

She just stared at him, her lips slightly parted as if in surprise. The music on the radio was faded out and after a moment of silence they both heard the beep of the hour signal.

Midnight.

When he reached for her, gently cupping her head in his hands and drawing her close, she didn't resist, but instead put her hands against his chest and raised her mouth to his, closing her eyes at the same time. In the instant their lips met he closed his too and sharply drew in his breath.

And for a long moment time seemed to freeze all around them, as if they were enclosed in a bubble of space where time had no meaning, no power, did not exist. The only thing that still had any meaning was the kiss. The feel of her lips against his, their soft caress as they parted, the hint of teeth behind them, the taste of her mouth … When her teeth grazed across his lower lip playfully, a cold shiver seemed to crawl down his back. Dimly he felt her hands clench on his sweater, bunching up the fabric under her fingers, and when he changed the angle slightly and pressed closer, she moaned and wrapped her arms around him.

Then, just as suddenly as it had begun it was over again. They drew away slightly, albeit reluctantly, staring at each other in confusion. Chandler tried to swallow what seemed like a huge lump in his throat and helplessly watched her wet her lips and draw a deep breath; something in his mind insisting that he should say something, break the awkwardness before it could overwhelm them …

"Ha-happy … New Year, Monica" he stammered, forcing himself to meet her steady blue gaze. For a long moment her expression remained unchanged, then the corners of her mouth turned upward, to his huge relief.

"Happy New Year, Chandler" she said softly, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she smiled. It made him want to dance and skip, and it took all his willpower not to give in to that mad impulse.

Some movement to his right made her turn her head and her eyes suddenly widened. "Oh – oh my, look at that! Oh, isn't it just amazing?"

Whoever it was on the roof with the fireworks was indeed really going to town with it. The exploding rockets briefly lit the sky with huge fountains of burning colors spinning out in long trails of flaming sparks and arching back down to the streets and buildings before they were extinguished again. When Chandler looked back at Monica, he saw the fiery colors reflected in her eyes and playing across her skin, and his breath hitched.

"Yes … amazing" he said hoarsely. Her gaze came back to him and she smiled widely again in almost childish delight. She was still holding him loosely around the waist and he couldn't bring himself to let go of her either. Instead he drew her closer and was secretly delighted when she rested her head against his shoulder as she continued to watch the fireworks. He tried to watch too, and lose himself in the brilliant fiery showers, but the feel of her so close to him, her warmth, and her understated yet somehow bewitching scent proved too distracting. Hoping she wouldn't notice, he kissed her on her hair, and felt a thrill go through him when she turned her head slightly to look at him.

"Um … thank you for kissing me …" he said lamely. "It was … very nice."

She smiled and then suddenly frowned. "Nice ..?!"

He grew hot under his collar. "Did I say – um, I meant stupendous of course. Amazing. Mind-blowing. The earth moved! The angels were singing!"

"Chandler …!"

"Sorry." He brushed his lips across her forehead. "I'm an idiot. But it was really wonderful. And you are wonderful too."

"Aw."

"Yes you are. You are the most wonderful woman I know and I hope that in 1996 all your wishes will come true."

She drew away very slightly until she was facing him again squarely, still looking at him searchingly.

"You really mean that."

"Yes" he said unhesitatingly. It made her smile again, a slow almost dreamy smile.

"Then kiss me again."

"Wh-"

"That's my first wish of this year. If you really want all my wishes to come true …?"

Chandler swallowed again, his breath hitching.

"Are you sure you - … how drunk are you?" he winced when her expression turned reproachful. "I'm sorry, but I did have a lot to drink and we've never done that before, and I'm not sure if this isn't some kind of crazy dream-mmpf-umm…" his last words were cut off when Monica impatiently drew his head down and kissed him hard, all stops pulled, throwing herself against him so he almost stumbled backward. When he steadied himself and pulled her tight, one hand on her shoulders and the other on the small of her back, she moaned softly into their kiss and molded her body into his. Before he could stop himself he let his fingers slide under her pajama top just when her tongue met his and slowly and sinuously wrapped around it. It made his head swim and his breath come short, until he had to break the kiss again simply for lack of air. Monica kept her face close to his though, her blue eyes almost luminous in the faint light.

"I thought it would be fun …" she whispered almost inaudibly. "And I really want this. Don't you?"

Chandler stared into her eyes, swallowing heavily again, his mind in a whirl. This was crazy. Here he was, in Monica's bedroom of all places, and at night too, kissing and making out with her of all people, his hot, lovely, headstrong, quirky, neat-freaky, overambitious, overachieving, energetic, insecure, sharp-tongued, completely irresistible friend and neighbor. It was more than crazy, it was dangerous too, and yet to even consider resistance seemed completely futile. It could not be denied any longer: he wanted it too. So much. He had always wanted it. He heard himself say yes even before he had conscientiously drawn enough breath to do so, and then could not say anything else because they were already kissing again, hungrily latching on. She pressed against him, her arms snaking around his waist again, and pushed her hands under his sweater, her fingertips dancing up his spine.

And then she urged him towards the bed and, kneeling on it still pressing against him, opened the button of his jeans and drew the zipper down while he struggled out of his sweater and kicked off his shoes at the same time. They kissed again as he unbuttoned her pajama top and cupped her breasts, teasing her nipples with the tips of his thumbs. Then she pulled him down and over her as she lay back on the bed, raising her hips a little so he could tug her pajama shorts down and away, and then hover over her while she did the same with his boxers, wrapping her legs over his back and buttocks.

"Oh god … Monica … this is … this is so …"

"I know. I know. It's alright. Don't worry. Shshsh. It doesn't matter. It doesn't mean anything."

"But –"

"Trust me." And as their eyes met again, his concerns all but melted away. She was right. It didn't matter. Nothing did, not while it was still night, New Years' night, the magical time of the lost hours between midnight and sunrise, where everything went and nothing counted, nothing mattered whatever they did – even if it was making love like they did now.

Or maybe especially if it was making love.

.

.

He was still nursing his hangover with coffee and a big glass of Alka-Seltzer when Joey finally came in, looking remarkably bright and fresh for someone who had spent the night partying.

"Hey, you're up! Are you feeling better?"

Chandler winced. "I don't know. Should I?"

"Dude, it's almost 2 p.m. You nearly slept the clock around!"

"What?!"

"Yeah. We were getting worried. Ross said he had to carry you up the stairs. I told you they really load up the vodkas in this place!"

"But it was Ross who fell asleep – um … didn't he?"

"Nope. I met him when he came back down. When I came in you were snoring the house down. I had to roll you over!"

"Gee, thanks Joe." He pressed his hands against his head, but it didn't help the splitting headache.

"No problem. You should have seen Monica."

"What? Why? What happened?"

Joey grinned. "When Phoebe's grandmother heard they were all alone, she invited them over and fed them her special New Year's cookies."

"Oh. Ouch. But then – they didn't – they weren't here last night?"

"No – oh, you mean, did they see you and Ross? No, although –"

"Yeah, I know, of course they know by now. Great." Chandler kept his hands pressed against his head, closing his eyes. When he had finally woken up, still in his clothes minus his shoes, last night had been pretty much of a big dark blank and so far even a shower and a crazy amount of coffee hadn't helped to fill it in, except for a few hazy memories that refused to make sense. Monica … there had been something with Monica. Something to do with getting kissed at midnight by her – but that couldn't be. She hadn't even been there at midnight, which was a pity. If there was anyone he would want to kiss at midnight at the New Year it was her. Oh well. There was always next year to hope for.

And at least there was a definite upside to it too: he hadn't gotten kissed by Joey this time.


	3. Have Yourself a Happy New Year's Kiss

It could have been so perfect, Monica thought. A party on the roof on New Year's Eve, with everyone who lived in the building and wanted to take part, plus their friends, although the weather report had predicted heavy rain squalls later, and it was rather cold even with coats. There was music, dancing, food and a bar for drinks in a stall where Phoebe also presided over a giant tea urn and offered to read the drinkers' fortunes from the tea leaves afterwards. In the stall next to that there was a small portable TV on which they could watch the ball drop at midnight sitting on a table next to a big top hat out of which anybody who wanted to kiss someone at midnight had already drawn the name of a willing partner on a piece of paper - pink for women, blue for guys, grey for 'Don't-Matters'. Actually Joey had volunteered to supervise the drawing, but had been voted out again after someone had caught him stashing several pink paper slips up his sleeve.

Not hers though, for the simple reason that she had not put her name down in the first place. True, she had no one to kiss at midnight, because she had no boyfriend right now. Because she was single. And also true, yes, she would have liked to kiss someone at midnight. Not just because it was the thing to do, or because it meant good luck, or because everybody did it, but because it was … nice. And because it felt right.

But she would rather start the New Year unkissed than risk drawing someone's name that she couldn't kiss. Or even worse, who wouldn't want to kiss her. Or worst of all having to publicly admit that she had to resort to drawing a name out of a hat to get someone to kiss her.

If only she and Richard were still together. Everything would be so easy then. She could watch Ross and Rachel without getting depressed as they danced and made out in front of everybody, smiling instead as they laughed and stared at each other adoringly, and be happy for them. With them. Instead of getting more miserable and maudlin by each minute the New Year crept closer and closer. Only twenty minutes more.

It was all so wrong. Why was she still so hung up about having a boyfriend? Why couldn't she be happy as a single woman, a strong independent woman with a good life, a great apartment, a group of true friends, and a job – yes, it wasn't a great job, in fact, as a job it was quite lousy, but it was a job and as such way better than nothing. And maybe next year she would get a better job or even THE job, the one she had always wanted and hoped for, the one that would make her feel important, valued, respected. A job that would outweigh her need for a boyfriend, or maybe even that desperate longing for a family and children. The thing that Richard couldn't give her, which was why he wasn't here as her boyfriend and she was going crazy with frustration even though she had been over him for so long already. She was quite sure that she didn't want him back, that she had really moved on. But it sure would have been nice to have him back for this one night. Or just an hour. Or a minute, just long enough for one kiss at midnight, to see the New Year in on. But here she was, in the middle of a party on the roof, clutching a drink, trying to have a good time with her friends while midnight was mercilessly approaching.

Maybe she should just try to imagine a boyfriend kissing her at midnight. Close her eyes when the counting started and pretend someone was there, looking at her, holding her and kissing her on the stroke of midnight. And when it was over, join in the cheering and watch the fireworks, finish her drink and, after a decent interval, leave as unobtrusively as possible and return to her apartment to curl up on the couch and watch TV or a movie.

Sounded like a good plan. Well, like a plan anyway. But she would definitely need to freshen up her drink for that, or go for something even stiffer than that scotch with a twist she had stuck to so far.

So she walked over to the bar, weaving and circling around groups of guests chatting and laughing, until she came to the queue for drinks. It was then that she saw Chandler standing in front of Phoebe's tea urn trying to finish a cup of tea that obviously was still too hot.

"Hey, Monica! Do you want your tea leaves read too?"

"Um, thanks Phoebe, but – no thanks."

"Oh come on! It'll be fun! Don't you want to know what the next year will bring you?"

"Not really, no. I'm fine."

Phoebe shot her a sharp glance. "Why, are you afraid?"

"What? No! Why should I be afraid? I just don't want to know!"

"Alright, alright, suit yourself. Chandler, are you done yet?"

"Well, I don't know about me, but my tonsils definitely are." He grimaced, working his mouth. "Aaand my tongue ... ugh. Here you are, Pheebs."

In spite of herself Monica was craning her head to get a look at Chandler's tea leaves as Phoebe pondered them.

"Hmmmm … I'm not sure – is that a four or more like an airplane?"

"Looks like a duck to me." Monica said matter-of-factly and Chandler stared.

"A duck? Where do you see a duck?"

"Here. There's the neck, and the tail and there are the feet –"

"But why-a-duck? Why-a-not-a-chicken?" When they stared at him uncomprehendingly, he threw up his hands. "What? Why-a-duck? The Marx Brothers? That's a classic!"

Phoebe just frowned and then shrugged dismissively. "Well, a four would mean being one of four people in –"

"A foursome?"

"A group of four with shifting relations." Phoebe sighed. "Not good really."

Chandler rolled his eyes. "Why am I not surprised?"

"And what if it's really a duck?"

Phoebe looked blank. "It can't be a duck. There's no meaning for a duck. If it was a goose –"

"Yes? What then?"

"A goose doesn't mean anything either."

"Ah." Monica and Chandler exchanged an eye-roll and an understanding grin. They had long since become used to Phoebe's antics.

"And what does an airplane mean?" Monica asked patiently. Phoebe pursed her lips and took out her book again.

"Airplane, airplane – ah yes. Obviously it means traveling, but it could also mean highflying emotions. Oooh, maybe you'll fall in love!"

"Aw, thanks Phoebe. I'll bear that in mind." As Chandler grimaced, Monica suddenly realized that he too had barely gotten over his last relationship himself. Yes, it had been with Janice, which was why they all had been quite unable to take it seriously, but for all that Chandler had been very downcast and depressed since, and for much longer than she had thought possible too. But given that she had witnessed every time he had thrown himself into the relationship and desperately tried to keep it going, that really shouldn't have surprised her.

"Didn't you put down your name?" Phoebe asked brightly, motioning towards the hat.

"No! I told you …"

"I know you didn't, I meant Chandler! Well, did you?"

Chandler bit his lip, avoiding her gaze. "I, um, I couldn't do it."

"Why not?"

"Well, it was too risky. What if I had gotten Joey? Or Gunther?"

"You wouldn't have gotten a guy. Unless you wrote your name on a pink slip?"

"What? Wasn't that what you have to do when you want a girl to kiss-?" Monica saw through the joke immediately, but Phoebe fell for it and glared at him as soon as she realized it.

"Chandler – Mmm-something – Bing!" While they were bickering, Monica considered Chandler for a moment, her drink forgotten. Chandler. What if she kissed him? He was her friend, of all the guys he was the one who seemed to understand her most, he was still recovering from a break-up same as her, and he was still being teased for getting kissed by Joey on that New Year's Eve before last. When she had rejected him. So it seemed only fair.

Plus it would ensure that she wouldn't have to kiss Gunther either. Or nobody at all.

Her decision made, she waited until Phoebe handed out another teacup and tried to follow Chandler as unobtrusively as possible as he turned away from the bar and walked into the direction of the stairs. When he had reached the door, she called out after him.

"Chandler – Chandler, wait!"

He turned around looking surprised and she realized that she had sounded almost urgent, and scolded herself for feeling so nervous suddenly. It wasn't like this was a big deal. Just a stupid little thing, a service between two friends, a friendly gesture for good luck. Still she tried to keep her voice down when she faced him, meeting his eyes.

"Here's an idea - what if we – I mean, maybe we could kiss at midnight?"

For a second he seemed to freeze in place, the surprise on his face almost comical, and Monica suddenly was dismayed. Maybe it was a big deal after all. Or maybe she had just made a total fool of herself.

Then he visibly pulled himself together.

"We? Us? Oh … um ..." He was staring at her earnestly now and Monica found herself clenching her hands in spite of herself.

"See, it's just - I don't have a mustache anymore."

"Wh- WHAT?" She could only gape at him.

"A mustache. Obviously I can't kiss you without one –" he broke off when he saw the sudden fury on her face and even took a step backwards. For a long moment the silence stretched between them, while she breathed deeply, fighting for control.

"Well maybe that's all for the best, Mr. Bing-A-Ling. I haven't had time to practice my Janice laugh anyway." She took grim satisfaction in seeing that retort hit home just before she turned her back on him and headed for the stairway, seething with anger, at him as much as at herself.

"Wait! Monica, please, please, wait!" That was Chandler calling out after her. While a part of her recognized the genuine anxiety in his voice, another screamed at her to keep going, to ignore him. He'd had his chance. If he absolutely had to turn everything into a joke, and such poor jokes at that, he needed to bear the consequences too. It was only fair.

Then she heard him rushing after her. "I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry!"

That made her stop, although she wished she was made of the stuff that made her capable of ignoring him and continue on her way. The same stuff that would free her of any stupid, sentimental desire to get kissed at midnight, to have a boyfriend, a husband, a family, kids, that would make her the strong independent woman she so desperately needed to be. But she didn't have that stuff in her, and so she stopped, although she didn't turn around and just waited for Chandler to stand in front of her.

"I'm sorry" he repeated. "I'm a total idiot. I thought – well, I was wrong."

While she stared at him coldly she felt the impulse tugging at her to say something, that she understood and accepted his apology, but stubbornly resisted. No, not so fast. All her life she had given in much too fast, never insisting on her right, her dignity. She was well aware that she was overreacting, but also that she needed it, needed this small victory quite badly.

Except that Chandler was now wringing his hands and starting to plead. "Please, I don't know why I said that! It just – got away from me."

She sighed, suddenly feeling weary. And quite bitter. "I know. It's okay."

"What? No, it isn't!"

"Yes, it is. Obviously I'm not over Richard. It doesn't make sense for me to kiss anyone at midnight. I should just go and watch TV. And eat cookies." She turned away from him again and continued down the stairs.

"What? That's – that is sooo – wait, please! That's so not true!" He scrambled down past her and then barred her way, steadying himself on the bannister.

"It's been what, half a year? Of course you're over Richard."

"Oh? As you are over Janice?"

"Yes! That is – yes, I am."

"Really? If she was here right now, you wouldn't want to kiss her?" She stood with her feet slightly apart and her hands on her hips, and, facing him squarely and opening her mouth very wide, she started to intone Janice's favorite phrase: "'OH' – 'MYYY' – 'GOAH –'"

Grimacing Chandler clamped his hands over his ears. "Okay! Stop it! Okay, you win!"

"Win what?"

"Yes, I would. Yes, if she was here, I would kiss her. Not because I'm not over her, but – because it would be nice. Because it's good luck. But –"

She looked at him expectantly, raising an eyebrow. "But …?"

"But – I would really much rather kiss **you**."

She felt her throat constricting and desperately tried to swallow, avoiding his eyes. The pause lengthened.

"Why?" Her voice sounded hoarse in her ears, and much smaller than she would have liked. But Chandler didn't seem to notice.

"Because!" He spread his arms wide, nearly losing his balance. "Because you're my friend. Because you're a wonderful woman and I'm so happy to be your friend. Because of everyone here you most of all deserve to be kissed at midnight and have all your wishes come true."

"Really?"

"Yes!" He took a step closer to her. "Please Monica." He looked up the stairwell where they could dimly hear the countdown start over the cheering and the laughter. "Oh god, it's almost time! So – please? Remember, if you don't kiss me, I won't get kissed either. I doubt Joey could spare the time right now."

That made her giggle, and when she saw the utter relief on his face it made her laugh even harder. Chandler grinned and held out a hand to help her up the stairs again. She was still bursting out into small fits of laughter when they arrived at the door to the roof and she followed him around the corner to the nearest balustrade where only a few people were standing. Almost everybody else seemed to be crowding around the bar and the stand with the TV, waiting for the ball to drop and counting along.

"Twenty-Two! Twenty-One! Twenty!"

Taking a deep breath she turned around to look at him searchingly and grabbed for his hands at the same time. She felt his fingers close around hers and then squeeze them slightly while he stepped a little closer. His face was very still now and she suddenly realized that he was nervous. Even more nervous than she was.

"Sixteen! Fifteen! Fourteen!"

Did she really want to do this? Was this really a good idea? He was her friend, yes, but she had never before considered to kiss him, not even when he had begged her – begged everyone there in fact – to kiss him at midnight two years ago and she somehow hadn't been able to bring herself to do it.

"Eleven! TEN! NINE!"

Or had she? But no, Joey had stepped in at the last moment, and saved her from – what really? The embarrassment? What embarrassment? He was her friend, it would have been just a favor, a friendly service –

"SIX! FIVE! FOUR!"

Now he brought his face closer until the tip of his nose almost touched hers and she felt his breath on her cheek. It was then that she sensed him falter, almost drawing back. Without thinking she brought her hands up and grabbed his grey scarf to draw him down to her and cradle his head in her hands, absurdly touched when he closed his eyes.

She so owed him this kiss. And this time she really wanted to do it too.

"TWO! ONE! HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

And their lips touched and fused at the exact moment of midnight, pressing together almost violently. Dimly she felt his hands on her back, his arms holding her steady, and then time seemed to freeze around them, creating a bubble around them where nothing existed but the two of them kissing, for a long, long moment when everything around them seemed to hold its breath, came to a halt and stood absolutely still –

She felt his lips soften under hers, his mouth opening slightly and causing her to respond in kind, and before she knew it the kiss was deepening, going beyond a gentle caress and becoming almost passionate. And it felt so good. He was wisely withholding his tongue, but the way his lower lip nibbled at hers, playfully pushing it against his teeth and grazing across it was – exciting at the very least. More than that, it was amazing and suddenly she couldn't get enough of it. It had been so long already since her last proper kiss and she marveled at the way her whole body suddenly seemed to revel in the sensation, reaching out for it and drinking it in, opening up to it, to him … When she stuck out her tongue a bit, he seemed to start a little, shuddering slightly under her hands, then he suddenly pulled her closer, pressing against her and touching the tip of her tongue with his. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him to her, molding her body against his.

She never knew afterwards what it was that made them stop and draw apart eventually. Maybe someone shouting 'Happy New Year' somewhere too close to them, or fireworks going off near them, or just the need to breathe asserting itself again. But there they were, still close together with their faces almost touching, staring at each other and breathing heavily. Her heart was hammering crazily in her ears and her knees felt so weak she thought she would fall down if she didn't hold on to his shoulders. Then she felt him start to say something, his lips trying to shape a word and without thinking about it she kissed him again, hungrily latching on. She felt him teetering in surprise for a second, but he caught himself almost immediately and kissed her back.

It was the rain that made them stop next time, sudden gusts of wind that brought fat cold drops of rain with it and had everyone on the roof shrieking and running for cover. Still numbed from the kissing she stared as the wind tore long pieces of festive garlands on the stalls away and hats and streamers went flying. Chandler quickly shrugged out of his coat and held it above both of their heads for makeshift cover and she snuggled against him gratefully, wrapping her arms around his waist. As they joined the masses crowding at the head of the stairs and rushing down, she looked back to where some people, Joey and Phoebe among them, were packing up glasses and bottles while trying to keep out of the rain. She knew she should join them and help, but couldn't bring herself to do it. Then Chandler was pulling her along and they hurried downstairs still keeping close together with their arms around each other and his coat still over their heads. On the fifth floor they broke away from the others and stopped for a bit at the corner while Chandler tucked his coat under one arm. When he looked at her and opened his mouth to say something, she swiftly put a finger across his lips shushing him and he subsided again.

Just as she took hold of his scarf to kiss him once more, someone bumped into her on their way into the hallway and when she turned around she saw that it was Ross who was holding Rachel close as they staggered towards the door of #20, laughing breathlessly and kissing wildly. After a lot of fumbling they finally managed to open the door and stumble inside, and as soon as the door closed behind them she heard the key being turned.

And the chain put on too.

"Did – did you see that?!" Her mouth still open in shock she turned on Chandler who just shook his head. She was locked out, locked out of her own apartment by her drunk roommate and her brother who didn't even live there. Of all the –

"Hey, hey, shhh, Monica, shhh. Calm down!" Chandler had caught up with her just as she had reached the door to hammer and kick on it in her fury, and now drew her back.

"But they locked me out! That's my apartment!"

"I know." Chandler gently but insistently turned her around and steered her towards #19. "Let them."

"But it's not fair –"

"I've got something much better for you." And with that he opened his door, letting her enter first. At first she didn't see anything as the apartment was quite dark, then some fireworks exploding somewhere near the windows illuminated the living-room and the reflections of hundreds of lights and colors lit up in the tinfoil sheets and ornamented lampions of the space camp decoration the guys had created for the little Brown Bird girl with the broken leg.

"Oh my god! I thought you had taken that down already!"

Chandler took her coat from her and put it across the foosball table. "Yeah, but Joey just couldn't bear to let it go, so we decided to keep it a bit longer."

"It's so beautiful …!"

"It is, isn't it? Until you try to sit on the chair that is."

"Just like mine then. I'm still finding fir needles there from Phoebe's dead Christmas trees."

He chuckled again, his face seeming to light up with that wide sweet smile of his, and her breath caught. Then as she continued to stare at him, the smile slowly faded again, and his expression became more serious.

"Happy New Year, Monica" he said softly and she felt a lump rising in her throat that refused to go down again. Suddenly her heart was racing again.

"Happy New Year, Chandler …" she replied shakily and then reached out for him urgently, blindly, hungrily, beset by a sudden desire that couldn't, wouldn't be suppressed. He caught her in his arms and they kissed again, deeply and passionately, until both their breaths gave out and they had to come up for air, only to fall back into their kiss immediately. At some point she felt his hands start to roam over her back and slide under her blouse and chemise while she in turn bunched up his sweater vest and groped her way under his shirt. When they at last stumbled upon the sofa bed, Chandler tore the dark coverlet away and they sank on it, their bodies pressing against each other, arms and legs entwining while they kept kissing.

"Um … mmmhhmmm … ah, oh, what about … what about Joey …?"

"Shsh. It's alright. Mmh. Don't worry. It doesn't matter. It's alright. Everything's alright." He was kissing his way down from her breasts to her navel and beyond, gently tugging her pants down and away while he was at it. "It's New Year's night. This is ours. Nobody can take it away from us."

He continued to kiss and caress her until she was shudderingly ready, almost howling with desire, then he came up again, carefully settling on her and pushing his hands under her shoulders to support her before he lowered his head to kiss her again. She sighed contentedly into their kiss as she wrapped her legs around him and held him close, moaning when she felt him pushing inside her and filling her up, their bodies locking and melting together as if two pieces of a puzzle were joined at last. He was right. This was their time, the magical time between midnight and sunrise, the time where everything went and nothing mattered, the time of lovers and their dreams, the lost hours of the time that was not real and yet more real than any other.

.

.

"Hey! Happy New Year!"

"Hi Phoebe –" Monica weakly waved to her friend from the couch before subsiding into another fit of coughing. Phoebe looked alarmed.

"Oh my god, you sound dreadful. Still sick, huh?"

Monica rolled her eyes. "You think?"

"Where are all the others?"

"Ross and Rachel left to visit my parents. I don't know about Chandler and Joey."

Phoebe put her bag on the kitchen table. "I met Joey on the way up. He said Chandler's got a cold."

"What? But he was fine yesterday – I mean, wasn't he?"

Phoebe shrugged. "I don't know, I didn't see him at the party. You know what? I'll make you a nice cup of tea. That will make you feel so much better!"

"Aw, thanks Phoebe. Will you read the leaves afterwards?"

Phoebe stared at her. "What?"

"The tea leaves. Didn't you do that yesterday?"

"Yesterday? Where?"

"At the party. On the roof?"

Phoebe looked blank. "There was a party on the roof? Well, nobody told me!"

Monica opened her mouth to protest and slowly shut it again as the truth dawned on her. "Oh …"

"You must have dreamed that." Phoebe grinned knowingly. "No, I was at Ross' party. Don't tell him, but it was so boring! So, a New Year's party on the roof? Sounds like fun. What else happened there?"

Monica leaned back wearily. "I don't remember much. You were reading tea leaves … and people could put their name down if they wanted to get kissed at midnight –"

"Aw, Monica." Phoebe came over and sat on the edge of the couch, patting her on the shoulder. "I'm so sorry that you had to spend New Year's Eve here all alone."

"It's okay. I wanted to be alone. I slept most of the time anyway."

Phoebe sighed. "So what else did you do? Watch TV?"

"And some movies." Monica indicated a small stack of videos sitting on the table among the clutter of cough drops, used tea cups, heaps of tissues, soup plates, books and magazines.

"When Harry met Sally? Ooh, I like that. Although, I like Jess and Marie better than Harry and Sally."

"Yeah, me too." Monica grinned. "'Please tell me I'll never have to be out there again!' I just love that line!"

"Yeah, me too." When the water in the kettle came to the boil, Phoebe got up, patting Monica again as she went. "And I'll bet you anything you'll find your Jess too one day." And then she brightened. "Oh, maybe if I read your tea leaves afterwards, I'll see him there already?!"


End file.
